He glowered.
Wait. He’s angry at me? But why? Because I’d tricked him or gotten past Mrs. Day? Fuck. Him!
“Well?” I pushed. “Did you fucking kill her?”
He turned his head and gazed out the window. “No.”
No. That’s it, asshole? Just no?
“Then where is she? And before you answer with some bullshit; I know she never left. I know something happened to her.”
He let out a little growl and met my furious gaze with his own pissy look. “You could’ve simply come out and asked. You could’ve told me why you were here. Why the charades?”
I jerked to my feet, ready to…to…well, I didn’t know what. “Who cares about that? Where is she?”
He drew a slow breath and released it. “Your sister is dead.”
His words punched a hole right through me.
My knees gave out and my body dropped to the couch. I couldn’t breathe.
“How?” I muttered.
“We don’t know what happened exactly. She had been drinking with the other guests after dinner and then she told everyone she was going for a swim. They all assumed she’d meant the pool, which is quite safe with our twenty-four-hour security; however, the next morning, she did not show up for her fantasy. We began a search immediately and found her sandals on the beach.”
The bile crept up my throat. I didn’t want to hear this. She couldn’t be dead. I still felt her with me, in my heart, in my soul. She can’t be gone.
He ran his hands through his thick dark hair. “We searched for over a week, hoping she might have been carried off to one of the other islands, but there was no sign of her. We even went as far as calling in the Bahaman Coast Guard.” Rook walked across the room and sat next to me. “Stephanie, you must know that we did everything possible to find her. I pulled every string, looked at every beach, and had pilots search thousands of miles of ocean.”
I nodded, feeling his words seep into my skin like a deadly poison.
He placed his warm hand on my back, his voice low and consoling, “I am very sorry, Stephanie. You have no understanding of how accountable I feel for every person who steps foot on this island.”
“Accountable?” I snapped my head in his direction. “Then why didn’t you contact us? Why didn’t you go to the embassy or something? Why hide this?”
He looked down at his hands. “I am willing to explain, but I promise you will not like the answer. And the last thing I wish to do in this moment is to aggravate your torment.”
Maybe he was faking his compassion, maybe he wasn’t, but it aggravated me to hear him so calm and caring. Why couldn’t he act like a giant dick so I could feel justified in my rage toward him? Because in this moment, I needed someone to blame, and it wouldn’t be Cici.
“Fucking try me, Rook.” My hands began to shake. My broken heart thrashed against my ribs.
“Very well.” He made a shallow nod and drew a short breath. “I am responsible for this island and everything on it.”
“I got that.”
“No. You don’t,” he replied. “Because sometimes I must make difficult choices and put the island first.”
“So what are you trying to say? That your precious resort is more important than telling me what happened to Cici? Or that my father, who’s just as broken as me, doesn’t deserve the truth?” My father had completely retreated emotionally after Cici disappeared and threw himself further into his work, taking the riskiest assignments he could—frontline Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq. I would call his sat phone every few days to check on him and give updates on my search for Cici, but he would only say things like “Oh, thanks for letting me know. See you soon.” A complete emotional void. When he’d come home between jobs, I tried to get him to talk and open up, but that only pushed him further away. The only thing I could do to console him was to keep him company and make him a warm meal.
Rook cleared his throat. “Cici was a grown woman, Stephanie. She made her own choices and that includes the decision to swim drunk that evening. So as much as it pained me and much as I did not want her to die, I had to be practical.”
“Which means?”
“Which means that telling you or the world about a tourist’s untimely death would only draw attention to this island. Negative attention, at that.”
“So it was a business choice to protect your precious little paradise.” I couldn’t believe this guy. He hadn’t even had the decency to contact me and give me closure.
“Yes. Absolutely. But I must also protect the people who live here, their jobs, and my home.”
“Who fucking cares if the world knows about this place?” I got to my feet and pointed at him. “You’re only concerned about charging obscene amounts of money for your fucking secret resort. Well, fuck that!”
Rook stood and gently grabbed my shoulders. “You have every right to be upset, Stephanie. But had I believed for one second that exposing my island to the public would have saved your sister, then I would’ve done it without question. Other than that, I did what I felt was best for the other people, the living ones, I am responsible for.”
I wanted to believe him and part of me did; however, “That doesn’t excuse what you did to me and my father—the pain you’ve caused by not telling us what happened to her.”
“I won’t argue with you, Stephanie. I made my choices for my own reasons. And I would do it again. Because at the end of the day, this place serves a bigger purpose.”
“Fucking sex?” I yelled. “Sex with cowboys is a bigger purpose?” I slapped his face.
His head whipped to the side, and he cupped his cheek. I could see his jaw tense and his teeth gnash together. I hoped to fuck that hurt, because it wasn’t even a fraction of the pain he’d caused me.
Slowly, he dropped his hand. “I was wrong when I told you that you didn’t need what those women, my VIPs as you like to call them, are getting. They are here, Stephanie, to say goodbye to someone they’ve lost. Someone they loved dearly and cannot let go of. That is why they’ve come.”
“I don’t understand.” What did that have to do with anything?
“That is their fantasy. They want peace, and we provide it.”
“You raise the dead?” He was mad. Completely mad.
“As much as I’d love for such things to be possible, our techniques rely on other, non-metaphysical means.”
“Like what?”
“I cannot tell you more. But know, Stephanie, I am offering you the chance to see your sister one last time. I’m offering you closure.”
I simply didn’t understand him. I’d just lost the most important person in my life, and he wanted to talk about fucking fantasies?
“I think I’ve had enough of your piece-of-shit paradise. I’d like to go home.” I can’t stay here a moment longer. I needed to see my father, and I sure as hell needed to cry. My best friend, my sister, and a piece of my soul had died.
Without batting an eyelash, he dipped his head. “Of course. Anything you need. The plane leaves on Sunday.”
Today was Wednesday. “I’m not staying four more days!”
“I am very sorry. Our jet happens to be in for maintenance; however, let me see what we can do about arranging for a flight from a nearby island.”
I nodded with flaring nostrils and balled fists.
“But I do wish you’d stay, Stephanie. I feel that I owe you more than a simple ride home.”
I wanted to slap him again. I wanted to punch him. All these months, we were missing Cici, wondering if she was being tortured or raped or—I didn’t know, but every horrible scenario had run through my mind. And now I had to deal with the image of my sweet, sweet sister being swept into a dark ocean, fighting for her life until she couldn’t swim any longer.
This can’t be. This can’t be. It didn’t feel real.
“Cici’s dead?” The tears began flowing down my face, a sliver of the truth working its way under my skin.
“Yes.” He pulled
me into his chest and held me while my world turned dark. Oddly, being his arms felt like exactly what I needed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Hearing this may not lessen your pain, but I do know how you feel.” Rook handed me a cup of chamomile tea and then took the armchair next to the sofa in his living room. I had to give it to him; for a man who could make me shiver with fear when he entered a room, he had his bedside manner down pat.
With my legs stretched across the sofa, me still in my pajama shirt from last night, I brought the cup to my nose and inhaled the hay-like aroma.
“How would you know?” I muttered.
He rubbed his jaw, producing a bristly sound. “I lost my entire family, save one, when I was ten. Right here on this island.”
Jesus. How tragic. That might explain why he had a wall of thick ice around him.
I met his harsh gaze. “I’m truly sorry. That must’ve been horrifying.”
He nodded slowly. “It was.”
“What happened?” I hoped he didn’t mind my asking, but he’d brought it up for a reason. I assumed to commiserate. Or make me feel better because I’ve only lost one person.
His strong hand moved to the back of his neck, and he rubbed out a knot. “Some very bad people showed up and killed them.”
Oh God. “Why?”
He shook his head. “Why do most people commit such heinous acts? Greed.”
“What did they think they’d get?”
“Money. Gold. Who knows? Whatever the case, they did not find what they came for and left.” He drew a slow breath. “Right as a storm rolled in, actually. They say it was the biggest hurricane in recorded history to hit our island. Their ship sank less than a mile north of the shore. I watched it go down.”
“Wow,” I said, disturbed by his confession. The poor man.
“Yes, indeed. Wow. All that so they could sail away empty-handed and die.”
I grabbed a tissue from a box sitting on the intricately carved mahogany end table. I’d almost filled the entire wastepaper basket that he’d brought from his study and set beside me. “It doesn’t make sense.” I dabbed my eyes.
“Untimely deaths rarely do for those left behind.”
“So who raised you?” I asked.
“My aunt, a lovely Jamaican woman. Very smart, very superstitious, and extremely resourceful. I would not be the man I am today without her.”
I attempted to imagine this cold, intimidating, wealthy man who sat before me as a little boy trying to make sense of his world after losing his parents and family members. Strangely, I began to wonder if this was the reason I felt drawn to him. I’d lost my mother at an early age. No, it wasn’t what he’d gone through, but I understood what it meant to grow up with a hole in your heart that could never be filled.
I stared into those cool blue-grey eyes. “Now I get why you want to keep the island a secret.” He probably didn’t like strangers coming around uninvited.
“That is part of it, yes. But more than anything, I feel it is my duty to leave one small corner of this world untainted by greed. So call this island what you may, but it is the only place I know of where one can arrive broken and leave feeling whole again. If you are willing to open yourself up.”
“For a price,” I added.
“Yes, well, that cannot be helped. I am still subject to the laws of reality, and it requires resources to run things. A lot of resources.”
“Probably takes a lot to keep the government from coming in and making demands, too.” I didn’t know why I said that, because probing for more information at this point didn’t feel right. I wasn’t going to report what I’d learned to Warner Price. I couldn’t. Not after learning the truth about Cici. It had been an accident. And as sad as I felt, I had no reason to take revenge.
Oh fuck. I am in deep, deep shit. I’d taken Warner Price’s money and merely paying him back would not suffice. He’d made it damned clear that there’d be “hell to pay” if I didn’t deliver enough information to obtain Rook’s island.
Crap. I would have to come up with some sort of story, some reason to make Warner Price walk away and never ask about the island again. As for the money, I would have to at least offer to pay it back.
You really think that will appease him? Likely not, but what else could I do now?
I’m screwed. I blew out a breath. I’d rolled the dice, risking everything to come here and find the truth. I couldn’t complain or whine. Not when I’d known the stakes and accepted them. Now the only question was figuring out how not to end up in a dumpster with my throat slit once I returned home.
Home… My mind drifted back to Cici, her sweet oval face and those big brown eyes. I couldn’t accept that I’d never see her again or hear her laugh. How would I get by without her? What would I tell my poor father?
“Are you all right, Stephanie?”
I glanced at Rook, who sat comfortably in his armchair, studying me.
“I was thinking,” I said.
“Must be something terrifying.” He crossed his legs. “I can see it in your eyes. They are quite easy to read, in case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t aware.” I bobbed my head, staring down into my tea. “I was thinking about going home.”
“Ah, you refer to your parents,” he said.
“My mother died when I was little. There’s just my father now.”
“I am sorry to hear that. And what will you tell him?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Honestly, what parent wants to hear that their child died like that?” Something so foolish, something that could’ve been avoided. It would feel like Cici had pissed everything away on a night of partying. That said, I doubted my father would even believe it. Cici was not the reckless type, but maybe that was why she’d gone for that swim. This place had a way of getting under your skin and then pushing you out of it.
“What was her fantasy?” I asked, wondering what my sister had really wanted out of this trip.
Rook looked down at the dark stained floor and speared his hands through his thick head of hair. “I do not feel it is right to tell you. We made a promise to her, as we make to all our guests, to protect their privacy.”
I wanted to protest, but I found his loyalty to her endearing.
“However,” he said, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together, “I will tell you this: she had a fear of death. I believe it consumed her at some level, and she did not wish to live like that anymore.”
My mind reeled and the tears began to trickle again. I couldn’t turn them off. “She feared death?”
“I never asked her, but a person in my position, who has seen many people come and go from the island, develops a keen sense of what delights them as well as haunts them.” He leaned back. “You have the same fear in your eyes—I recognized it the moment I saw you.”
“You think I’m afraid of dying?”
“No. Not of dying but of death—of it happening to those you care for, of the pain it would cause those you leave behind. The concern is always for the people you care about. You would do anything to protect them. You would do anything to keep them from suffering.”
He’s right. And not just a little right, but nail-on-the-head right. I’d had a big part of my life stolen from me at such an early age—my mother. And her death ended my father’s happiness and any hope of a normal childhood. So yes, I felt fiercely protective of what I had left. I wanted to keep it safe forever.
I cleared my throat. “You knew all that from looking at me?”
“Yes.” Rook smiled, but it didn’t touch those nearly translucent eyes. It was only meant to comfort me, and I appreciated the gesture. “Thus the reason for the shark dive. Not my best choice, but please know it was intended to help you confront your fear. Instead, however, you merely ended up igniting my own.”
“Sorry?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I too am fiercely protective—of those in my care. Otherwise, I would not be running this very unique resort.”
I sniffled and made a little chuckle. “I never thought I’d say this, but I get you. More than I’ve ever gotten anyone.” Even Cici.
In a way, Rook was like that flower he’d talked about. Only his petals weren’t soft or silky, and every time I peeled back a petal, I saw more of myself. We were alike in many ways, though I sensed his demons were bigger and more demanding than mine.
And they make me want to get closer.
I blew out a slow breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. Fuck. This can’t be a good idea.
Rook rose to his feet and walked over to the couch, standing in front of me. “I have had your things moved into my guest room. You can sleep, shower, do anything you like to make yourself comfortable. If you are hungry, simply pick up one of the phones and dial 0; they will bring anything you like.”
“You moved my stuff here?”
“I felt it best not to leave you alone given the recent events.”
Meaning I was off my rocker, sleepwalking, and hallucinating about monks with lanterns and my dead sister.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“As much as I would enjoy the day off, I still have an island to run. I will be down in the basement.”
“That’s not creepy,” I said.
“It’s not like that, I assure you. Much of this island’s infrastructure is underground—we are in hurricane alley, and I cannot afford to rebuild each year nor would we be operational.”
I didn’t want him to go. Ironically, this beautiful, ice-cold man felt like the only thing keeping me safe from my own dark thoughts. Losing Cici had been eating away at me for months and now, digesting the full breadth of my grief in one swallow, felt like too much. I needed to take the pain one bite at a time and try to figure out how to get past this. Because part of me knew this was all real, but the other part of me didn’t want to accept it. I wasn’t ready.
“Can I see?” I asked.
Rook looked at me like I was mad. “You’ve been through a terrible shock and need to rest.”
I glowered up at him. “You’re not my caretaker, Rook.”
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